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yuhenglesbian · 6 years

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Galaxies & Stardust

Link to part one (of sorts)

Pairing: Fan Chengcheng x Female Reader

Requested: Nope. I’ve been wanting to write a sequel to Sky Full of Stars for a while.

Genre: Fluff; Hinted Smut

Word Count: 2,204

A/N: This took me so long to post because things kept on coming up constantly rip. It’s not exactly a sequel because both the fics are pretty individual of each other unless you want context for a couple of things. Also, this was pretty gender neutral until boobs became a factor *sigh*.

If there was one thing you would never get tired of– that you’d pick over and above everything in your life– it was Fan Chengcheng. It was the way he was created of constellations and lone stars and the way he made you feel like you were covered in stardust every time he touched you. Sometimes when you’d pull away from each other– flushed and breathless, lips glistening and moist, you were tempted to check for galaxies that you swore formed across your skin everywhere he touched you. His touches were always languid and lazy– flowing gently over you every time you made out but they never failed to make you feel as if sparks were forming under the skin where his fingers rested, ready to set you on fire if they got out of hand but for now, only making you feel as if he’d imprinted on you the very galaxies you swore he was made of.

Those feelings amplified exponentially the first time you ever made love to each other– made love because you couldn’t bear to call it anything else. Everywhere he touched you, you could feel a starburst happening. Countless new stars being born and dying over and over until you couldn’t hold back your orgasm any longer. When he held you later that night, both of you still panting slightly from the activity and told you in soft whispers against your neck of how much he loved you, you swore that you were on the edge of becoming one with a newborn galaxy.

In the morning after, you notice the love bites trailing down your neck– bruising your skin in hues of purple and red. He kisses them gently, still half asleep even as he wraps his arms around your waist while you make breakfast and apologises for how visible they are. You turn around and kiss that beauty mark on his jaw and tell him that you wished he’d paint you in those colours all over and giggle when he blushes.

***

Fan Chengcheng is sure he is in love with you– with the little things about you. With how you always make him breakfast when you stay over; with how easily you smile and how the sun couldn’t ever compare to your radiance when you do. He’s in love with the breathless, flushed you who pulls him in for another kiss almost as soon as you’ve pulled away. He’s in love with the you who’s made of sweet moans and gasping repeated pleas of his name at night– all your little noises loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough for his parents to be able to hear how the nature of your relationship has changed slightly.

He thinks you’re beautiful and he wonders how you could possibly be in love with him. He’s amazed at how patient you are with him– always around to talk him out of any of doubts he has about himself and his worth as an idol. He’s awed at how when words fail, you can always kiss away his thoughts. He’s in love with how you kiss him– slow and languid, matching his pace as your desires slowly build up. He in love with the moment you pull away, your eyes glazed over with all the love and adoration and need he feels growing inside him as he lets you pull him closer for another kiss– this one more heated than the last.

However if anyone asked, what about you Fan Chengcheng is in love with, all of those things wouldn’t be what he answered. If anyone asked him why he loved you, he’d tell them about how you make him feel like he’s made of stardust and how you’re the magic of meteor showers– making him feel vulnerable and invincible at the same time– leaving him feeling like magic existed and came from stars even as you called him a galaxy of stars and constellations and swore that he was the one leaving galaxies bursting on every inch of your skin that he touched.

***

It had been a lazier-than-usual Sunday evening that found you both cuddling on the couch at your apartment, the television playing a long-forgotten movie as Chengcheng told you about how he’s been since the last time you saw him. He talks about how Nine Percent is finally gearing for debut and how he’s worried about the stress increasing with a double debut. One of his hands is holding yours, tangling your fingers together and absently tracing circles on the skin below your thumb while the other is wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You’re acutely aware of how much you’ve missed his voice and the feel of his touch as your heart lurches in yearning for more domesticity in your relationship.

“I’m just glad to be back finally,” he says after a while, his lips against your neck, his words barely audible. You hum in response, tilting your head back to expose your neck a little more. “I missed you,” you tell him, raising his hand to your lips even as he trails kisses down your neck.

Things move faster from there– leaving you breathless with the series of starbursts that you can feel taking place all through your body and mind as Chengcheng pins you down on the couch and leaves kisses and hickeys on any bit of exposed skin he can find. His movements are urgent and feverish and you can’t help but wonder if you’ll actually become a new galaxy by the time he moves away.

When he does move away– sooner than you would have liked for him to, leaning back against the handle of the couch and pulling you with him, the fire of his touches have left you so delirious you’re almost sure you’re only half human– the other half of you is probably lost to the supernovas he’s created all through your body. “I love you,” he whispers for the first time in a long time and in that moment, delirious or not, you love him more than you ever have.

You need him more than you ever have: with his lips swollen and parted slightly, panting slightly; his hair sticks to his forehead and you wonder how much his hair must have grown from the last time you saw him. You look at the boy in front you, holding you on his lap and looking at you clearly worried about how you would react to his confession. You can’t help but smile and lean forward to kiss him– a slow, eager kiss full of how deeply you feel for him. In the years to come, Chengcheng would relate the kiss to a lake in the monsoons– filled to bursting and yet something that filled him with peace instead of making him want to run away. In that moment, he lets hands roam everywhere on your body as you pull away momentarily from the kiss only to leave kisses all over his face and all down his neck.

You bury your fingers in his hair, tugging it slightly so he takes the hint and tilts his neck and allows you to suck and lick on every bit of his neck. Chengcheng thinks of how you always compare him to the night sky and how you talk of his touches turning you into a cosmic space where new galaxies are formed and in that moment he feels as if he is the cosmic space where galaxies are formed. Every nerve ending in his body seems to be bursting from charged energy leaving him jittery and exhilarated all at once– he wonders if you feel this way too when he touches you. Absently, his hands brush over your breasts, squeezing them gently over your bra making you moan into his neck, making him groan in response to the proximity.

All at once, the sensations are too much to let either of you hold back and vaguely you can feel his dick beginning to harden as you sit on his lap, staring at him– both of you shocked at the sudden wantonness of your relationship and the intimacy it had stemmed from. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are shining and his lips are swollen and you can’t help but be taken at how beautiful he looks in moments like this– it makes you want to take a picture of him like you often do when your makeout sessions end. Today, however, you can’t really see yourself doing that– this moment feels infinitely more private than any you’ve ever shared and maybe it’s because it was at that moment that you realised you were in love with him or it was because his hand was under your shirt. You can’t tell the difference and you don’t care for it– at that moment, all you want is to lead that moment to fruition and even though Chengcheng is too polite to say it, the look in his eyes tell you that he wants it too.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he tells you, hesitantly trying to release some of the tension. He’s visibly nervous and you think he’s adorable so you lean in again to kiss him again– this one is barely a peck on his lips. “I want you,” is all you tell him before his hands are cupping your face as he pulls in for a deeper kiss– one that doesn’t make you feel like you’re a newborn galaxy– it makes you feel like he’s pulling you into a new, private galaxy where no-one exists besides the two of you.

In the morning after that you wake up to Chengcheng’s bare chest against your back, his face buried in your neck, his arm around you, you wonder briefly how the two of you ever managed to make it to the bedroom from the couch. It rushes in other memories from the previous night as well: The feel of his lips all over skin, his tongue swirling around your nipples before he sucked them– you bite your lips at the memory of how it made you moan; your body tingles at the memory of the actions– at how you were sure you would definitely burst into cosmic dust before the night was over.

You look at the boy sleeping next to you and wonder if he at all believes it when you tell him how beautiful he is and you wish he does because he is– like the sky under which you kiss him after he tells you about how afraid he is of not being good enough on certain nights. You trace your finger across his face, drawing imaginary lines connecting each of his beauty marks and think about how all his skin is dotted with them and how he let you kiss each of them last night. “You’re a star-studded night sky, Fan Chengcheng,” you whisper, barely audible to even yourself. “You’re made of constellations and lone stars and when you touch me I feel like my essence is becoming an entirely new universe.”

It’s the first time you ever worded out how he makes you feel and when he stirs slightly in his sleep, you’re slightly embarrassed that he may have heard you. Instead, he hums in his sleep, completely unaware and shifts slightly making you smile. You gently raise his hand and creep out of bed, picking up his discarded shirt and pulling it over yourself. It’s when you pull your hair up to tie it that you notice the love bites on your neck– red and purple and reminding you of NASA pictures of galaxies and you can’t help but admire them for a while in the mirror of your room before you make your way to the kitchen.

It’s been barely ten minutes when Chengcheng joins you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a back hug, kissing the nape of your neck. “Good morning,” he says, groggily, “come back to bed.” You laugh, throwing your head back and resting it on his chest, looking up at him. “No, Cheng,” you smile, “we need food.”

You laugh some more when he pouts and Chengcheng decides then that he’s never going to love someone as much as you. He trails his hands up your sides, making you shiver slightly. His hands roam all over your body as he leans down to kiss your neck– stopping when he notices the bruises he’s left on your skin. You don’t need to turn around to see the worry and guilt in his eyes as he apologises. “I didn’t mean to be so rough,” he says and you can’t help but laugh a little at how sweet he is. You turn around in his arms and kiss his jaw.

“Fan Chengcheng, you’re made of stars you know that?” you sigh fondly. “You’re made of stars and when I saw those bruises, my first thought was that they were galaxies because those are what I feel under my skin when you touch me. I love them and if anything, I’d rather you covered me all over in them.”

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